


Swords of a Soldier

by Misanagi



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misanagi/pseuds/Misanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some battles are won and others are lost, but in a war the consequences are severe and not always honorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Whumped!Quatre Ficathon, filling [Harvest Blue's request](http://www.livejournal.com/users/darthanne/219827.html?thread=1490611#t1490611).
> 
> Thanks to Anne for the beta.

Treize stepped out of the shuttle, taking a few steps before stopping and looking at his surroundings. There were about fifteen mobile suits in the hangar bay and one large shuttle. Apparently the explosion hadn't damaged this part of the satellite. The electrical door in front of him slid open and three men walked up to him. They all saluted him respectfully and Treize nodded at them.

"Welcome, your Excellency," said one of them. Judging by the uniform and the stripes on his shoulder he was the officer in charge. "I'm Lieutenant Chase. We are honored to have you in our facility-"

"Spare me the pleasantries," said Treize, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "A verbal report of the events will be sufficient." He walked towards the door, the three officers following him.

Chase walked just a step behind Treize. "At four hundred hours yesterday morning our perimeter was breached. There was an explosion in the Mobile Doll production facility and the storage rooms. The damage was severe, not a single Mobile Doll was salvaged."

Treize didn't care for Mobile Dolls. When he was informed that one of his space divisions had managed to take control of one production facility from the White Fang, Treize had decided to dismantle the dolls and use the parts as spares for regular Mobile Suits. He wouldn't fight a war where humans weren't involved. "How did the explosions affect other areas?"

"It didn't," replied Chase. "The damage was contained."

A smirk graced Treize's lips. The detonations had been set up skillfully, not wasting resources in destroying unnecessary targets, but instead focusing on the main objective. The one who had done it was a worthy adversary. "How did you manage to capture the pilot?"

Chase stood up straighter and raised his chin. "I sent out patrol groups as soon as we heard the detonation and one of them caught the intruder. They surrounded him and ultimately managed to secure him."

"How many casualties?" Treize didn't particularly like Chase's wording. It was obvious that the man was trying to make things sound better than they had been.

A small cough escaped Chase's lips and then he cleared his throat. "One of our men was killed by the explosion and another was wounded. He broke his leg but he'll recover." He paused for a moment. "Five more were killed when we apprehended the intruder, and another two were severely injured."

Treize made a mental note to ask for the names of the deceased later and to visit the wounded men. "Is the intruder responsible for that?" he asked, gesturing to Chase's bandaged hand.

The lieutenant moved his hand behind his leg so it was out of sight. "It's nothing to worry about, your Excellency."

The failure to answer the original question wasn't lost to Treize, but he decided to wait until another moment to ask Chase about it. Instead, he decided to move onto more important matters. "How can you be certain that the prisoner is a Gundam pilot?"

When Treize had been notified that they had captured a Gundam pilot, he'd had his doubts. Gundam pilots weren't easy to capture, and the amount of attacks made without the Gundams had decreased in the last few months. Very few had access to the files of the Gundam pilots and the regular soldiers knew nothing more than the stories or legends that had formed around the five terrorists. It wouldn't be the first time that a regular rebel was confused for a Gundam pilot.

Usually Treize asked for a picture of the prisoner before he went to see him personally. However, the factory he was in now didn't have the means to send visual communications. Treize had decided to visit anyway. He wanted an excuse to leave for space earlier and this proved to be a good one.

"I used to be stationed in the colonies," said Chase. "I recognized the kid as soon as I saw him. We captured him and another pilot after a Gundam tried to destroy the colony. We held them until the transport for the moon base arrived."

Treize nodded. Apparently the information hadn't been mistaken. "And where is the pilot now?"

"We have him down in the brig. This facility only has three small cells, so the White Fang men we caught, as well as the workers, are being held in one of the big storage compartments for the moment. We figured the pilot needed more security."

"They weren't affected by the explosions?" Treize asked.

"No," replied Chase. "The explosions were limited to the compartments with Mobile Dolls inside. The prisoners were unharmed."

Treize had to admit that the pilots at least tried to limit civilian casualties to the minimum. "Take me to the pilot." It was time for Treize to go and meet their guest.

Chase led Treize through the factory, and down to the lower levels. Treize noticed that the temperature wasn't regulated here, but the air and gravity were still being controlled. They headed for a door at the end of the corridor. It was wider than the others they had passed and the locking mechanism was more sophisticated. Chase took a key card from his pocket and opened the door.

The lights immediately turned on, and Treize followed the man inside. The door led to another corridor, and at the end were three small cells with open bars. The cells were still shadowed. "They have individual lights," Chase explained. "The controls are on the right wall, the blue ones control the lighting and the red ones the electrified doors."

Treize looked at Chase, waiting for him to elaborate.

"The bars are electrified and the intensity can be controlled by those switches. We have them on high now."

Treize nodded approvingly. "You may leave, Lieutenant." He walked past him. "I can take it from here."

Chase hesitated for a moment but then handed Treize a keycard, and with a salute he left the cell area.

When he heard the door click shut, Treize walked further inside. Whoever had designed these cells had no idea of what he was doing. The cells where shadowed until he could reach the control on the wall. By then the prisoner would have seen him coming through the open bars. The design put the guards in a vulnerable position.

There was a cough and then a weak voice sounded from one of the cells. "Treize Kushranada, it's been a while."

Treize reached the light controls and pressed all of them. Light suddenly flooded the cells and the boy inside the one in the middle winced softly. Walking closer, but still keeping his distance from the bars, Treize approached the cell. The cells were completely bare, made by three walls of heavy metal and the last one covered in vertical iron bars. When Treize saw the figure inside he couldn't help but gasp and take a step back.

Treize, of course, knew the identities of all the Gundam pilots. He hadn't met them all but his intelligence had gathered their names – or at least their code names – and pictures. When he had first read the name Quatre Raberba Winner among those of the other pilots he'd thought that it was a mistake. It was either bad intel or the pilot had assumed a famous code name, like Heero Yuy. However, eventually he had received pictures of the pilot using that name, and then Treize had to accept that the only son of the pacifist Winner family had become a terrorist.

He had met the child once, in one of his trips to the colonies. The Winner family had invited him for dinner. Quatre Winner must have been about nine years old then. He was an arrogant child who pretty much kept to himself, without even glancing at the world around him. The boy was nothing but a spoilt child, one of the many raised within rich families.

The person before him didn't resemble that spoilt child in the slightest. It was one thing knowing that the boy had decided to leave the comfort of his home to fight a war, and another to witness the consequences of those actions.

The boy was sitting on the floor, his back pressed to the far wall. His hands were bound in front of him by two pairs of handcuffs, and Treize could see that the wrists had been skinned raw by the constant friction with the metal. One of his eyes was black, his lips were split in two places and there was a cut above his other eye that apparently had stopped bleeding only recently. His shirt was torn in various places and bloodied. His arms were covered in bruises. He was barefoot. The boy's pants were open, and Treize realized that the buttons have been ripped. There were spots of blood on the floor beside him and on the wall he was leaning on.

"I can tell you weren't expecting to meet under these circumstances either." Quatre coughed again. Talking seemed to be a difficult feat to achieve.

They might be enemies but Treize didn't approve of this type of treatment towards prisoners. The pilot had been tortured; his wounds weren't ones sustained by simply securing a prisoner. "This is not what I expected," said Treize. "I must apologize for my soldiers' behavior. It was out of line."

Quatre snorted, but ended up coughing again. "Soldiers' acts reflect on their leader." He kept his eyes on Treize, refusing to look away. The gesture clearly stated, 'I might be in chains, but you are no better than me.'

Treize gave a small nod. The pilot spoke the truth. He was Oz's leader, and as such he was responsible for his men's actions. "I must admit that I was surprised when I learned that you were piloting a Gundam."

The pilot glared. "Your men already interrogated me. While your methods differ, the result will be the same." His features softened into a polite mask. "You must excuse me but I'm not up for small talk right now."

Treize walked closer to the cell. He doubted the pilot was able to attack him and it was getting increasingly difficult for Treize to hear him. "I can get you some water to clear your throat," he said amiably.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," the pilot replied, even though his voice was barely over a whisper.

Treize smirked. Quatre Winner seemed to be a worthy adversary, even though he was at a great disadvantage. "There's no need to be stubborn. I didn't come here to interrogate you, as you so crudely put it, but to make you a proposition. There's no reason why we can't arrange this in a civilized manner."

Quatre raised his head higher. "We are way past that point."

Looking at the pilot's beaten body, Treize knew he couldn't disagree. "As unfortunate as today's incidents are, there is still a way we can help each other. This war is bigger than you and me."

"I'm aware of that," said Quatre. "But unless your proposal is surrendering, I'm afraid I can't accept your terms."

Treize smiled. "There's no need to play hardball, Mr. Winner. We both know that right now I hold all the cards in my hand." No reply came, but Treize thought it was merely because the pilot was saving his voice, not because he had given in. "The enemy of my enemy," continued Treize, "is my friend."

Quatre shook his head slowly. "My war is both against the White Fang and your men. My friends are those who fight and bleed beside me, not those who look at me through metal bars." Another coughing fit followed that statement and it took him a few minutes to regain his breath.

Treize had hoped to form an alliance with the pilots. White fang was a threat to both the colonies and the Earth, and they stood a better chance if they fought together. He knew it was a long shot. After all, the pilots always acted alone, very rarely working together even amongst themselves. "If there is no way to change your mind..." Treize let his words hang in the air for a moment, giving the pilot the opportunity to change his mind.

"No, there isn't." Quatre's eyes were hard and his voice firm. Treize wondered how many times the pilot had given the same look to the men who interrogated him, and how many of his bruises and cuts were caused by it.

"Very well," said Treize. "Then I'm afraid I have to take my leave." He headed for the door. The pilot didn't reply but Treize could hear coughing as he closed the door.

Treize now had only two choices and none of them were particularly appealing. He couldn't keep the pilot in the cell. If he did, no matter how much he reprimanded his men, the pilot would be tortured again. He would have to either execute him or let him go.

Considering that the boy was a very powerful enemy, the first choice seemed to be the logical course of action. However, even though the pilot refused to cooperate, he hadn't outlived his usefulness yet. There was no doubt that the White Fang was the biggest threat. The Libra was a very powerful weapon, and destroying it was Treize's priority. The Gundams would target the Libra also, and killing the pilot would weaken their force thus lessening the chances of eliminating the Libra.

On the other hand, if he let the boy live and the Gundams indeed brought the Libra down, then Treize would have to face them, and he would regret not executing the pilot when he had the chance.

By the time he met with Lieutenant Chase to inspect the destroyed part of the satellite, he had made a decision.

Later that night there was a malfunction in the power system. Treize leaned back on the hangar wall, watching the soldiers heading for the power room. He waited five minutes and sent the remaining men to see what was keeping the others. He didn't have to wait long before he could see a figure limping towards one of the space Leos.

The pilot was having problems walking but he still kept moving, his hands were still bound but he was carrying a gun, raised, and ready to shoot. It wasn't until the pilot reached the suit that he saw Treize. The gun was instantly pointed towards him. Treize bowed his head, keeping his arms at his side so the pilot could see that he didn't have any weapons.

Quatre lowered the gun and climbed into his suit. "Consider us even."

Treize walked away from the hangar before the pilot could blast down the doors and make his escape. He had a battle to prepare for.

* * *

Quatre opened his eyes when he heard the beep. He pushed the button to accept the connection and smiled at Duo.

"We're almost there," said Duo. "Just making sure you're awake and ready."

Straightening up in his chair, Quatre took a hold of the Mobile Suit controls. "Let's go."

Duo's image on the screen was replaced by the outer camera view. The satellite was already in sight, and they needed to approach it carefully if they wanted to avoid being detected. The blueprints had showed that the satellite only had outer monitors for the hangar entrance. It was an old installation and poorly equipped. They would be able to approach the satellite from the back, open a hole in the outer shell and sneak in undetected. The Gundams would have attracted too much attention so they had decided to use two space Leos instead. They only needed them for transport and to open their gate.

Quatre maneuvered the Leo to the assigned point, and covered the other Leo while Duo used the beam saber to cut the metal. After they got the Leos inside, Quatre put on a helmet and a bulky space suit, and opened the hatch. "We should have used flight suits," he said as he rushed into a pressurized compartment.

After the door closed behind them, and they confirmed that the air was breathable, Duo and Quatre removed their helmets.

"Those flights suits scream intruder higher than a neon sign," said Duo placing the helmet on the floor behind some junk piece of metal. Then he took off his space suit to reveal the casual set of clothing under it. "This way we can blend in."

Quatre removed his suit too and looked down at the black cargo pants, army green t-shirt and heavy jacket he was wearing. "I don't think we look like workers," he said, checking his guns before placing one in the shoulder holster and one in the back of his pants.

"We stand out less this way." Duo handed one of the explosive belts to Quatre and secured the other around his hips. "That's what Trowa said."

When they had discovered that the V3-453 Satellite was manufacturing Mobile Dolls for the White Fang, the pilots knew they had to destroy it. Mobile Dolls were a big threat, and the more they could take out before facing them in battle the better. Blasting the satellite wasn't an option since the intelligence had showed that it was filled with colony workers and only a handful of White Fang officers supervising them.

Infiltration was the best option. Two people could do the job of getting in, destroying the Dolls and the machinery, and leaving without any civilian casualties. There were no more than fifteen White Fang soldiers, which would make it an easy job for any pilot.

It had been decided that Heero needed to stay behind. If Epyon attacked the only suit that could battle with it was Wing Zero, and Heero was the only pilot who had mastered the Zero system and was willing to use it. The other four pilots had decided to draw straws to see who would go.

"I think he was annoyed for not getting the short straw." Quatre checked his watch. "I'll take the factory, you take the Mobile Dolls. Leave separately, communication silence until we are out of their range."

Duo nodded. "Take care, buddy. See you in a while," he said, running down the corridor.

Quatre smiled and headed in the opposite direction. "You too."

* * *

The beeping woke him up. He opened his eyes slowly wondering when he had fallen asleep. Instinctively he reached for the comm button and pushed it. Duo's worried face soon filled the screen.

"Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Quatre, are you okay?" Duo looked at the low corner of the screen. "Trowa, it's him."

There was another beep but Quatre didn't push the button to connect. He closed his eyes. "I'm tired. Please take me back." He cut the connection with Duo and let a small relieved sigh escape his lips. He was safe.

* * *

Duo looked at his watch for the tenth time. There was no way Quatre would take that long to leave the satellite after detonating the explosives. Duo hated to think about it but there was no other explanation; Quatre had been compromised.

He let out a curse, barely keeping himself from smashing his fist into the control board. Quatre was either dead or captured and there was nothing Duo could do about it.

Their intel had been wrong. He had only noticed it as he was leaving the satellite. The place was filled with Oz soldiers. If he had known that Quatre hadn't made it out he would have come after him, but the bombs exploded on time and Duo figured that everything was working as scheduled.

But something had gone very wrong because there was no word from Quatre and his Leo apparently hadn't left the satellite. There was no way Duo could go back now. Gundam pilot or not, it would be suicide to challenge an OZ troop with only a Leo.

He needed help but the Leo didn't have a very long communications range. He would need to get a lot closer to the Peacemillion if he wanted to contact the other pilots. Deciding not to waste any more time, Duo started to make his way back to the ship. The trip to the satellite had taken six hours. He would make it back in four.

* * *

"He cut me off," Duo said to Trowa. "He cut me off. We need to get him back soon. He doesn't look good." He ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck! I should have stayed. I should have gone back for him. I should have done something."

It had taken Duo three hours of reckless piloting to get close enough to Peacemillion to make a connection. Howard had answered his distressed call and promised that he would inform the other pilots and send backup. Immediately, Duo had turned back, knowing that a Gundam would catch up to him easily. One Gundam was enough to raid the satellite and get Quatre out. Heavyarms had caught up to Duo's Leo quickly. They hadn't traveled long when they noticed another suit, flying straight towards them. Quatre had been inside.

"Duo, stop." Trowa's voice was commanding. "We need to take the suit back to the Peacemillion. Sally can take care of Quatre once we get there."

Duo nodded. Yes. The priority was to get Quatre some medical attention soon. He could do the whole guilt trip thing later. Heavyarms took hold of Quatre's suit, and started maneuvering back towards the Peacemillion.

It was a slow and awkward journey. Duo could do nothing but keep watch for any trouble since his Leo didn't have the mobility of a Gundam, and if he tried to help he would end up doing more damage than good. He had tried to establish the connection with Quatre again but Quatre hadn't replied.

Trowa managed to get the suit carrying Quatre into the hangar without much trouble. Duo was already on the catwalk, rushing to the Mobile Suit. Heero, Wufei and Sally were on the hangar waiting for them. Between Duo and Heero they managed to get the hatch open. Quatre's eyes were almost closed.

"Oh my God," Sally put a hand over her mouth.

Duo had already seen Quatre's face when he had talked to him using the comm link, and he had expected Quatre's body to be in the same condition. "Capture is never good for the health," he said bitterly.

Quatre tried to snort but he ended up coughing.

Sally was already reaching for the straps holding Quatre to his seat. "We need to get him to the medical bay now."

Duo stepped forward but a hand on his shoulder prevented him from going on. He turned and noticed Trowa standing behind him. "You are too tired," he said. "We'll take him."

"I can take him myself." Heero didn't bother to wait for an answer and simply reached down and took Quatre in his arms.

"Thank you," Quatre whispered.

Sally led the way with the others following behind. The couple of mechanics they encountered in the way gave them worried looks but no one said a word. It wasn't a good idea to stand in the way of the Gundam pilots, even less when one of them was obviously injured.

The medical bay was empty. The only people who fought using Mobile Suits were the Gundam pilots and Noin. The rest of the staff consisted of mechanics for the suits, and pilots and engineers for the Peacemillion. Heero put Quatre in one of the beds gently, trying not to aggravate his wounds. Quatre let out a soft hiss that sounded as loud as thunder in the quiet room.

Sally was already looking for supplies. Trowa moved towards Quatre and took Quatre's hands in his. Quatre gasped and moved his hands back a little, but didn't take them completely away from Trowa's hold. If Trowa noticed Quatre's reaction, he didn't show it. He simply turned to Duo and asked, "Do you have picks?"

Duo nodded. He put a hand in his pocket and retrieved a small set of lockpics. Instead of giving them to Trowa, he moved towards Quatre. "I'm faster," he said with a shrug. Trowa moved back, giving Duo space to work.

The cuffs weren't too tight but the wrists were cut, and covered with dry blood. 'He must have struggled,' Duo realized. Taking care not to move the cuffs too much Duo started to work on opening the locks. Soon the first set of cuffs was unlocked, and Duo took them off carefully. "One to go." He grinned at Quatre but lowered his head quickly.

When the cuffs were off, Duo took a step back. Trowa approached Quatre again, this time with a knife in his hand. "I'm going to cut your clothes off." The clothes were a little more than rags. There was no need to make Quatre uncomfortable just to save the clothing.

However, Quatre sat up and moved back. A grunt escaped his lips but he didn't lie down again.

Trowa hesitated for a moment before approaching Quatre again. "Sally needs to examine you. We know you are hurt, you don't have to hide it from us."

Quatre just stared at him for a moment and then turned to the other pilots, studying each of them. Finally he nodded, lay down again and closed his eyes. Trowa carefully cut the shirt off and threw the pieces on a nearby bed.

Duo had expected the bruises. He had known that Quatre would be in bad shape but he still turned his face away at the sight of Quatre's chest. It was his fault that Quatre had gotten hurt. If he hadn't left he might have been able to prevent this.

"I'm sorry." It sounded lame on Duo's opinion, and it didn't seem enough to cover the remorse he was feeling, but those were the only words he could speak, and he ended up repeating them over and over again.

Quatre placed his hand over Duo's, and Duo raised his eyes. Quatre had opened his and was looking at him. "It was my choice. I decided to stay behind." The words barely made a sound, and the grimace on Quatre's face showed that it was painful for him to speak.

Sally was back. She had alcohol, disinfectant, gauze, a needle and bottles of pills and cream in her hands. "Out," she said, putting the supplies on a nearby table. "You can't help. You would only get in my way."

Duo was ready to protest but Wufei stood before him. "She can be trusted," he said. "She'll take good care of him."

Trowa was already at the door and Heero was following. Duo gave Quatre one last smile before he and Wufei walked out. For now, there was nothing else to do but wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Sally covered Quatre with a blanket from the waist down. The pilot was lying on his stomach. She had bandaged the welts on his back but the weigh of the covers would hurt Quatre's torn skin. One of the other pilots could go find something for him to wear later, but right now, he was sleeping, and wouldn't care if he was naked under the sheets.

It was good that Quatre trusted her enough to tell her what kind of sedatives he hadn't built a resistance to. From what she had gathered, all the pilots had their defenses enhanced, making them resistant to many drugs. Thankfully, the sedative Quatre had recommended had worked.

After determining that Quatre didn't have a concussion, Sally had decided to sedate him before she started to treat him. It had been the right decision. Quatre had thanked her but it wasn't until she realized exactly what had happened to him that she understood why.

Looking at him one last time, Sally exited the infirmary, closing the door quietly behind her. She leaned on the door and took a big breath. There was no way she was going to face the pilots with tears in her eyes. After all the time in the militia, she had seen her share of injuries and death, and even though she had never grown used to it, she had become stronger. After examining Quatre and getting an idea of what he had gone through, Sally was having a hard time controlling her emotions.

The price of war was too high. Every time the pilots took off to fight for everyone, she was forced to see children going to war, while she stayed. She had just spent an hour patching Quatre up, knowing that the moment he was alright, he would go into battle again.

With one last deep breath, Sally walked down the hall and towards the small common room the pilots had appropriated for themselves. The door was closed, as usual, but she didn't stop to knock. The four boys were waiting for her inside. Duo had been lying on the couch, probably sleeping, since he had been on duty for nearly forty-eight hours. Heero and Trowa were sitting at the table, facing each other, and Wufei was leaning on the wall next to the couch.

Duo sat up when she closed the door behind her. The rest of the pilots didn't move from their spots, but they were all looking at her expectantly.

Sally walked to the center of the room, where she could see all the boys. "Quatre is resting now. I gave him a sedative to help with the pain. He's sleeping." Sally was a professional and she would report Quatre's condition efficiently. If she tried to distance herself with the patient she wouldn't let her emotions take over. "The worse injury is a bullet wound in his right calf. Thankfully it was only a graze. He doesn't have a concussion; his trauma was directed to his body, not so much to his head. His ribs are bruised but none of them are broken or fractured. There are multiple bruises, and welts on his ba--."

Duo interrupted her. "Welts?" There was no expression on Duo's face but his voice was a little broken.

"Quatre..." Duo's question had broken through her professional detachment, and now her voice was filled with the concern she had been determined not to show. "Quatre was tortured." She lowered her eyes. Not amount of professionalism could make her look the pilots when she delivered the next words. "And raped."

* * *

Trowa opened his eyes slowly when he heard a small noise. He stretched himself on the metal chair, already feeling his muscles cramp for sleeping in that uncomfortable position. He looked towards the bed where Quatre was resting, and saw him turning in his sleep.

The sedatives must have been wearing off. Trowa had been there for the last three hours, watching over Quatre. After dressing him in a pair of soft cotton pants, Trowa had sat on the bedside chair, and eventually had fallen asleep.

They had decided to take turns to watch over Quatre. Duo had been reluctant to leave Quatre's bedside but they had finally convinced him that he would be no use to Quatre if he was half asleep. Heero had taken the first watch. Quatre hadn't moved in the four hours Heero was with him. Trowa took the next, and it seemed that Quatre was ready to wake up.

Trowa watched Quatre closely, determined to wake him if he started to move too much. It wouldn't surprise him if it took a while for Quatre to control his nightmares. They all had them; they had seen too much to have a good night sleep.

A soft whimper escaped Quatre's lips. Trowa stood up, turned on the lights and then said, "Quatre, wake up," in a firm tone of voice.

Quatre opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. Trowa had been careful to place himself on Quatre's line of vision so Quatre wouldn't have to move to see who had woken him.

"You were having a nightmare," Trowa explained, returning to his chair. Quatre was lying on his stomach, his hands under the pillow and his face turned to Trowa. "Don't move," said Trowa, knowing that Quatre would consider it rude to talk to Trowa while he was in that position. "It'll be painful, and it's not necessary."

Quatre sighed. "My arms are asleep." He ended up coughing, and then gestured to the glass of water resting on the nearby table.

Trowa took the glass and brought it to Quatre's lips, lifting it slowly so Quatre could take small sips.

When the glass was empty, Quatre smiled a little at Trowa. "Thank you." His voice was stronger now. "I would rather sit up."

The sheet was still down to Quatre's hips, and Trowa could see the bandages covering Quatre's back. "I'm not sure you should apply pressure to your back."

Quatre smiled, or at least tried because his torn lip wouldn't let him move his face muscles more. "I can hardly feel anything. Whatever Sally gave me for the pain is working."

Trowa thought about it for a moment but finally went to another bed to gather more pillows. If Quatre was going to lie on his injured back, Trowa was going to make him as comfortable as possible. "Can you get into a kneeling position?"

Not bothering to reply, Quatre slowly bent his legs under him and then using his arms, he pushed himself up. He hissed but managed to wait, kneeling on his hands and knees for Trowa to arrange the pillows.

Quatre struggled to lean back on the pillows. Trowa moved to help him but the moment he touched Quatre, the blond jerked away. Quatre didn't look at him. "I'm sorry. I don't… I can do this alone."

Taking a step back, Trowa watched Quatre shift positions until he was almost sitting upright. Quatre muttered a curse and shut his eyes tightly. "I guess I do feel something," he said, opening his eyes.

"I'll call Sally. She'll want to check on you now that you are awake."

Quatre grabbed Trowa's wrist. "Can we just wait a bit?" He lowered his eyes. "I don't want to see her right now."

Trowa understood what Quatre wasn't saying. Quatre knew that Sally had examined him, and that meant that she knew what had happened. Trowa nodded, gently moved his wrist out of Quatre's grasp and brought the chair closer to the bed. He reached for Quatre's hand again but stopped himself before he touched him, choosing to place his hand on the mattress beside Quatre, where Quatre could reach, if he wanted to.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but silence until Quatre's soft voice broke it. "You know." He had turned his face away from Trowa, as if he was ashamed to look at him.

Moving two fingers to rest lightly over Quatre's, Trowa spoke. "You haven't changed to us. You are still the same."

Quatre didn't turn his head but he didn't move his hand away either. "I'm not sure."

"The same thing happened to me when I was with the mercenaries." Trowa lowered his head, letting his bangs conceal his face. "You know now. Do you think any less of me?"

The slight cringe of the bed let Trowa now that Quatre had turned to him this time. Quatre's fingers moved over Trowa's, holding his hand and giving it a light squish. "You are still Trowa."

With a deep breath, Trowa raised his head again, and let Quatre see him, see the lie reflected in his face. Quatre had always been able to read him.

"You lied." Quatre's voice only held a tingle of accusation, the rest was shock. "You've never lied to me."

The need to lower his eyes again was too great but Trowa kept them trained on Quatre. "I'm sorry." He knew the guilt must have been clear in his face for Quatre to see. "I needed to show you."

Slowly, Quatre's lips turned to a small smile. "I'm glad it wasn't true," the smile quivered a little, finally settling on a fake one, "for you."

Trowa remained quiet. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he kept looking at Quatre, dropping all his masks and making his face as readable as possible, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

"I'm sorry I pulled away from you." There were tears in Quatre's eyes but they hadn't fallen.

"You aren't pulling away now."

Silence filled the room again, however this time it wasn't because there were no words but because they weren't needed.

* * *

They pushed him into the cell, and although he stumbled and swore as he was forced to put weight on his injured leg, he didn't fall. The men followed Quatre inside, the last one closing the open bars door behind him.

"He's dangerous. Put another set of cuffs on him."

Quatre's hands were grabbed harshly and a man put a second set of cuffs around his wrists.

"Get him ready for questioning," the same voice as before said. Quatre had known he was in trouble the moment he saw that soldier. Things have a way of coming back when they are least expected.

He was pushed to the far wall and his arms raised above his head, where the chain between the cuffs was linked to a hook on the wall. Quatre had to stand on tip toes to reach the ground. The position and his injured leg prevented him from lashing out at the men.

There were hands all over him, taking off his boots and socks, emptying his pockets and taking away his belt, holster and any concealed weapons he had.

The floor was cold and Quatre felt a chill on his back. He raised his head defiantly and saw five men in front of him.

"Matthews, Croft, I leave this to you. Any information you can gather would make me and his Excellency very happy."

"Yes, Lieutenant, Sir," saluted the two men.

'So he's a lieutenant now,' thought Quatre.

The man left the cell, followed by two of his soldiers. Matthews and Croft remained.

They were both tall and over thirty, one with brown curly hair and the other with hair black and straight.

"Matthews doesn't have any patience, kid," said the one with black hair. "Just answer our questions and save yourself some grief.

Quatre decided not to speak. He had the option of playing word games with them, answering the questions that weren't dangerous and keeping silent with the others. That was a risky game since, to an experienced interrogator, silence could say more than any answer, and right now, Quatre's wasn't feeling up to it. He knew that this approach would be more painful but less stressful to his mind.

He felt the blows and after a while stopped hearing the questions. The only sounds he made were hisses and grunts, until the pain became too much and he started to swear loudly, something he very rarely did. When they finally stopped, Quatre was already in so much pain that he hardly even noticed.

"We'll come back tomorrow, and the day after that," one of them said. "The sooner you talk the better."

Then they were gone, leaving Quatre alone in the cold dark cell.

* * *

Duo walked into the room slowly, hoping to make as little noise as possible. After Quatre had woken, Sally had checked him over. She had said that his bruises were healing nicely, as well as the bullet graze. With a lot of rest and medication, Quatre should be able to make a full recovery in a short amount of time.

Duo didn't doubt that Quatre's body would recover but his mind was another thing. Quatre was strong but after going through something like that he would need a lot of help and support to get himself together. The scars on Quatre's body would heal but the ones in his mind were deeper.

Pausing at the door, Duo took a deep breath. His fists were clenched tightly. He wanted to go back to the satellite and blow the whole thing up, just kill everyone who had hurt Quatre, but most of all, he was angry at himself.

"Duo, come here."

He should have known Quatre would notice he was there. Even if it was dark and he had been quiet. Walking the rest of the way into the room, Duo turned on the lights a bit, enough so he and Quatre could see each other but not so much that they couldn't hide in the shadows if they wanted to.

There was a chair by the bed. Duo sat down. "You should be resting."

"I am," replied Quatre. He was lying on his side, an arm pillowed under his head, facing Duo. "You are the one wandering around when everyone else is sleeping."

Duo shrugged. "I've slept enough." He noticed that even under the dim light, Quatre's bruises were visible. The coloring meant that they were healing but it made Quatre look even worse than before. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." Quatre's eyes moved to the side. "I'll be alright."

Duo let out a long breath. "You can hate me, you know? I understand." Looking down at his fidgeting fingers he waited for Quatre to say something. Quatre had every right to hate him, but Duo was hoping desperately that it wasn't true, even if he didn't deserve Quatre as a friend anymore.

"Do you?" Duo raised his eyes to see that Quatre had moved a bit back in the bed, where the light wasn't so bright. "Hate me, I mean?"

"No!" Duo's voice sounded angry. Leaning closer to Quatre he said in a softer tone, "I don't hate you," he shifted his eyes and whispered, "I hate myself."

Quatre moved closer and hissed when he resumed his previous position. "I was selfish."

Duo blinked, confused. "What?"

"I can handle the bruises. I'll be able to come to terms with the… with what happened." Quatre closed his eyes as he spoke those last words and was silent for a moment. He sighed, opened them and looked at Duo. "If you had been captured, I wouldn't be able to handle the guilt." He lowered his eyes. "I was selfish, and I'm sorry."

Whatever went down in Quatre's head was something Duo would never understand, especially if it led him to those conclusions. Duo opened his mouth to tell Quatre that he wasn't selfish, and that if he was guilty of something it was of thinking to much, but before he could Quatre shook his head and held a finger to Duo's lips.

"You are not ready to talk about this," Quatre said. "And neither am I." He removed his fingers slowly from over Duo's lips. "Would you tell me about the time you spent at that school with Heero? Did every girl there want to kiss him too?"

Duo never lied, but if he was good at something, it was avoiding the truth. He put a goofy grin on his face and talked. With a cheery voice he told Quatre about those days, making it sound like a happy tale, a story of two almost normal boys, living in a world where war was something that happened to others.

When he heard Quatre's rhythmic breathing Duo turned off the lights and left the room quietly, letting the smile slip away.

* * *

"You have to eat if you want to get your strength back," said Wufei, eying the half empty plate on Quatre's lap.

"I know," Quatre replied, but didn't make a move to grab his fork again. "I'm just full."

Wufei finally took the tray from Quatre's lap and placed it on a nearby table. It was logical that Quatre wouldn't recover his appetite so soon, but at least he was eating something. Wufei would give him a few days, but if he wasn't eating normally by then he would force feed Quatre if it was necessary.

They sat in silence. Quatre had been awake when Wufei had come into the room; they had exchanged greetings but hadn't started a conversation. Out of all the pilots, Quatre was the one Wufei knew the least. They had only met face to face when he'd arrived on Peacemillion and since then the few conversations they'd had had been mission related.

Nonetheless, hearing what had happened to Quatre had affected Wufei more than he wanted to let on. He knew they were fighting a war and was well aware of the risks involved, but degrading a prisoner the way they had Quatre, broke every rule of a civilized conflict.

Wufei had noticed some changes in Quatre. He seemed to be avoiding looking at other people in the eyes and his movements were more deliberate. Wufei had noticed that Quatre was a very tactile person, and even though Quatre still touched the people around him, he flinched every time someone approached him.

"Trowa mentioned once that you've met Treize Kushranada." Quatre was looking at the far wall. He left the statement hanging, giving Wufei the chance to talk of he wanted to or to end the conversation with his silence.

The mention of Kushranada always made Wufei feel angry. He clenched his fists. "I did. Once."

Silence followed until Quatre spoke again after a few minutes. "I don't mean to pry. I was just wondering…" Quatre looked at his hands. "I met him on the satellite."

Wufei saw red. His nails were biting into his palm and he let out a low growl. Wufei had thought that as many things as Treize was, he was at least an honorable man. "He was responsible for this?"

"No." Quatre shook his head. "This," he looked down at himself with a sad expression, "happened before." The next words came soft, low as a whisper, as if Quatre didn't believe them himself. "I think he helped me escape."

The words hit Wufei like a blow. He unclenched his fists slowly and just asked, "What?"

"I couldn't have escaped alone, and I think he provided the necessary help." He looked at Wufei this time. "Do you think… do you have the impression that it's something he would do?"

"Yes." After all, Treize had let him go, and he hadn't been hurt like Quatre.

"He's a worthy adversary."

Wufei gave Quatre a serious look. "You owe him nothing."

"I know."

* * *

Quatre lay on the floor in the far the corner of the cell. He was trying to stay as still as possible, knowing that any movement would cause more pain. He was shivering slightly and the thirst was starting to get to him. Talking to Treize had been a challenge. Every word he'd uttered felt like it was ripping his throat. Now he was lying on the cell floor waiting… waiting for them to come again to "question" him, to get it over with and kill him, to be rescued or to find a way out. He hated the wait.

For now, there was nothing for him to do but that, and waiting left a lot of time for thinking, and thinking led to remembering. A tear slid down his face and Quatre used the back of his hand to wipe it, angry that he had let it fall. He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He was stronger than that, he had to be.

But yet, the tears kept falling and he kept remembering.

Gritting his teeth, Quatre pulled harshly on his cuffs. He let out a curse when the metal created pressure over the damaged skin, and a sharp sting ran up to his arm. Quatre closed his eyes and focused on the pain on his wrists. It was a momentary relief from the memories he desperately wanted to avoid.

Then something happened. He wasn't sure what, but there was something different in the dark cell. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn't hear the hum of the electricity. Taking the broken hook from his pocket, Quatre got up slowly, using the wall as leverage.

He hissed at the pain the movement brought but walked to the cell door anyway. Experimentally, he touched it, and let out a relived sigh when he wasn't electrified. The electrical locking mechanism wasn't working either. Quatre grabbed onto the bars and pulled. After a while he managed to slide the door open enough for him to sneak through.

It was so dark he might as well have kept his eyes shut. He followed a wall, using it to guide him, until he bumped into a door. His heart stopped as he grabbed the handle and turned it. The door opened.

A part of Quatre's brain whispered that it was too easy. Something had to be wrong. Quatre ignored it and kept walking. He had to get out of there.

Flickering emergency lights illuminated the corridor. Quatre moved as fast as he could to the elevators, remembering having seen the emergency stairs beside them. He wasn't looking forward to climbing five levels up, and his leg was already protesting, but he wouldn't risk the elevators.

As he approached the stairs, a figure appeared before him. The soldier was startled for a moment but recovered and went for his gun. Quatre was faster. He charged at the soldier, ramming the hook he was carrying in the soldier's neck.

The soldier let out a pitiful wail and brought his hands to his neck, and the gun fell, forgotten, on the floor.

Quatre wasted no time and dived for the gun. He hit the soldier with it on the back of the head. The soldier fell to his knees and Quatre hit him again. This time, the soldier collapsed, face first on the floor, and didn't get up.

Leaving the man there, Quatre headed for the stairs, moving as fast as he could. He probably didn't have much time.

The walk to the hangar was painful but without incident. He didn't encounter any more soldiers, which made him even more suspicious of the situation. Escaping shouldn't be this easy. As he reached the space Leo he planned to use to get back to Peacemillion, Quatre noticed a figure from the corner of his eye. He pointed the gun at the figure before he even had time to see who it was.

Treize Kushranada stood there, watching, and suddenly Quatre understood why things had been so easy. Maybe Treize had really been sorry for what his men had done, or maybe he was playing some sort of game, but whatever it was, he wasn't trying to stop Quatre's escape.

Lowering the gun Quatre said, "Consider us even." With that, he climbed into the suit, and powered it up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some battles are won and others are lost, but in a war the consequences are severe and not always honorable.

"You are not broken."

Quatre looked up at Heero's words, shock evident on his face. It was the reaction Heero was expecting. It was time for Quatre to stop wallowing in self pity and move on.

"Sally says it's time for you to do some light exercise. If you remain lying down your muscles won't recover."

The bruises were already fading, and the last time Sally had changed the bandages she had said that the welts and the bullet graze were healing nicely, even if there might be some scarring. Quatre's physical injuries were not so severe, but Heero feared that if they let him stay in bed, hiding from the world, Quatre's mind might never recover.

It was important to show him that he was still needed, and especially to let him know that he could still fight, that even if what had happened had changed him, it wouldn't cripple him, not if he didn't allow it.

"I ensured that the small training room would be empty. The walk there should help you warm up, and then just some stretches and light muscle exercise."

With some help, Quatre had been getting out of bed more and more. He was able to go to the bathroom without assistance now, and he had taken a shower yesterday.

"Thank you, Heero."

Quatre was still avoiding Heero's eyes for the most. It troubled Heero. He had grown used to a confident Quatre who would return his glares with a calm stare and refuse to lower his eyes. "I thought I had your respect, Quatre."

Quatre looked puzzled. "Of course you do, Heero. Why would you think otherwise?"

"You are not looking at me."

Sitting on the bed, and getting ready to stand up, Quatre still refused to meet Heero's eyes, focusing instead on a spot above his right shoulder. "I…" Quatre shook his head. "After what happened…" A sigh and another shake of his head. "I know it doesn't make me any less, but it does make me feel that way. I'm not sure I deserve respect anymore."

Heero helped Quatre up from bed, putting a hand around Quatre's waist to support him. Quatre was tense for a moment, but after a deep breath he relaxed a bit. It wasn't that Quatre need help walking anymore, he didn't, but Heero figured he still needed support.

They walked quietly to the training room, and Heero refused to let Quatre go. The few people they encountered in the hallways gave them weird looks, probably not used to seeing Heero display any type of affection.

Quatre's right leg was already stronger, but Heero suggested some light weight exercises to slowly get it to its former strength. During a break, Heero handed Quatre a bottle of water and sat beside him.

"You earned my respect a long time ago, Quatre. You still have it."

Quatre raised his eyes this time. "Thank you."

"It wasn't your fault." Heero didn't know why he had spoken those words. Of course it wasn't Quatre's fault. They all knew the risks when they'd decided to involve themselves in a war, but that didn't make what had happened to Quatre something he should have expected. Some people had honor in battle, others didn't. Quatre had met the latter.

"No, it wasn't, but it was a consequence of my actions." Quatre paused but continued before Heero could say anything. "Fault implies a previous wrong action that leads to its consequence." He smiled at Heero. "I don't think I acted wrongly that time. And I would do it again."

"I don't understand."

Quatre kept his eyes fixed on Heero, and for a moment, those eyes showed none of the fear, sadness or melancholy they had for the last few days. "I don't regret it."

Heero frowned. "You are speaking in riddles."

"What happened to me, it was retribution." One of Quatre's hands was placed over his heart. "I killed his friend."

"It's war," Heero said. "People die."

Quatre nodded. "That's true, but I've always been reluctant to let /my/ friends die." There was something Quatre wasn't telling him. "If he had gotten Duo, he would have killed him. What happened to me was the lesser of two evils." He got up and headed for the showers, beside the training room. "Thank you, Heero."

The only instance in which Quatre wouldn't regret killing would be if it was absolutely necessary. "You killed the man's friend to protect someone," Heero stated, understanding what Quatre wasn't saying.

Without turning around, Quatre paused. "Yes."

"Who?"

It wasn't until Quatre had closed the shower doors that Heero heard the whispered reply. "You."

* * *

Something had gone wrong. There weren't supposed to be so many soldiers in the factory, nor were they meant to be so heavily armed. The explosion had gone off as planned but Quatre hadn't expected to find an OZ squad on his way out. He ran straight into them and barely had the time to duck behind some metal remains before they opened fire.

In the time it took him to take out both his guns he had made the decision. He could try to outrun them, head for the east side, and hope to reach his suit before he was shot. But that was Duo's escape route. If he managed to get there in one piece, then he would be leading the soldiers to his friend. The decision was simple: a slim chance for them both to get away, or a very good one for Duo to get away, alone.

Quatre fired five rounds and three soldiers went down. The remaining men took cover, and started to fire from behind a wall. Their shots were wild and none of them even came close to hitting Quatre. He crouched low on the floor and peeked quickly from behind his metal shield. One of the soldiers was doing the same. Quatre aimed and fired. The soldier went down.

A shadow on his left caught Quatre's attention. A soldier was sneaking from behind, his gun raised and pointed at Quatre. Quatre fired but it was too late. The soldier had already shot his weapon. Quatre's right leg gave in under him, and he collapsed. The bullet had hit his calf. His leg wouldn't be able to hold his weight. There was no where to run.

He managed to drag himself to the nearest wall, leaning there. His guns were raised. The soldiers would come but he would take down as many as possible. He shot two more before the one who had shot him tackled him. One of Quatre's guns slid from his fingers, but he used the other to shoot the soldier.

As soon as the shot was fired, a foot connected with Quatre's wrist, and the gun was knocked away. The soldier had provided his comrades with enough time to reach Quatre, and now he was surrounded. In one last futile attempt, Quatre took the knife from his boot and slashed one of the soldier's legs. He was repaid with a kick in the head and a man stepping on his injured leg. The pain proved to be all the distraction the soldiers needed and soon also the knife was kicked away from his hand.

Quatre couldn't tell how many men were standing above him but he knew that he had lost his fight. Someone stripped him of his jacket. No words were spoken and no orders were given but whenever Quatre tried to resist, the soldier stepping on his leg would apply more pressure. They forced his hands in front of him and handcuffed him, then they dragged him up.

There was a man on either side of him, holding him upright. They dragged him down the corridors. Quatre limped, trying to stay off his right leg and hissing quietly with every step. There was a man at the end of the corridor. Quatre recognized him immediately.

"Congratulations, gentlemen. We have found ourselves a Gundam pilot."

Quatre hid a small relieved smile. Duo had gotten away.

* * *

Heero sat on Wing Zero's open cockpit, annoyed that there was nothing for him to do. Working on his Gundam always helped him focus, it was the thing he did when he didn't want to dwell on unwanted thoughts or regrets. However, Howard's mechanics took care of his suit now, and there was nothing left for him to fix or add. Wing Zero was in perfect condition.

"Heero."

Looking down, he saw Trowa standing on the cat walk. "We are meeting in the common room."

Jumping down, Heero joined Trowa and they walked together silently. Wufei and Duo were already there. Wufei was leaning on the wall and Duo sitting on a chair by the table. Heero's first thoughts were who was with Quatre.

"Sally is taking care of Q," answered Duo, without waiting for Heero to ask.

Heero nodded, and leaned against the door, waiting patiently for someone to explain what the meeting was about. Trowa chose to take the seat in front of Duo.

Wufei spoke first. "Treize's army is approaching, and we are getting closer to the Libra. It won't be long till we have to fight another battle, and it's important for us to decide if Winner is be able to join us."

"Sally says that his injuries are healed enough," Duo replied. "He's not one hundred percent but, physically, he can pilot."

"Physically," repeated Trowa slowly.

"His state of mind took the worse shock. We've all spent some time with him," continued Wufei. "Now we need to decide if he would be an advantage in battle or a liability."

"That's for Quatre to decide," Heero stated. Quatre was the only one who could make a decision like that. He wouldn't stay behind if he thought he could fight or go into battle fearing risking everyone's lives. Quatre would need to judge what was best. He wouldn't let anyone make that decision for him, none of them would.

Wufei nodded. "Yes it is, but whatever he decides affects all of us." Duo was about to say something but Wufei held up a hand and continued. "After speaking with Winner, I think he is in condition to battle… and lead us."

"He's not broken," said Heero, "and we need him."

Trowa nodded in agreement. "He needs to fight, to know he's still useful and capable."

They all turned to Duo, who was looking down at his hands and acting unusually quiet. When he spoke, his voice sounded soft, almost as if he was lost in thought. "I don't want him to get hurt, but I think it'll be worse if we try to force him to stay. I still trust him, and I don't want him to get the wrong impression." He raised his head, and his eyes were sparkling dangerously. His voice was low and controlled. "I want to go back to the satellite and kill the mother fuckers who did this to him."

Wufei shook his head. "We don't have the time to go back there now. We need to get closer to Libra. That's our objective."

Duo stood up. "Then I'll go alone." His hands were closed into tight fists and his posture was tense. "It was my fault. It's the least I can do."

Heero walked towards Duo and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him softly so he would sit back down. Duo didn't budge. "Quatre let himself get captured so you could get out. I won't let you waste his sacrifice."

The words hit Duo like a punch. Heero could see the hurt look in Duo's face before Duo gave up and collapsed on his chair. "It wasn't your fault," said Heero.

Duo gave a bitter laugh. "You just said it was, Yuy."

"It wasn't," repeated Heero firmly. "It's as much your fault as it was Quatre's, or mine."

"Not to spoil your little speech, Yuy, but you have nothing to do here." Duo leaned back on his chair.

Trowa and Wufei were watching the conversation quietly, seemingly preferring not to get involved for the moment.

"He didn't say it, but I believe that the man who raped Quatre was one of the soldiers who captured us in the abandoned colony, after the Zero system incident." Heero noticed that Duo's expression was curious, but that the anger was still there, waiting for a moment when it could be unleashed. Heero continued. "I don't remember much. I had a contusion but I have flashes of one soldier, who kept hitting me. I think I broke his leg or did something to anger him, and he decided I wasn't worth the trouble and took out his gun to shoot me."

"Quatre stopped him," said Trowa.

"He killed him," said Heero. "Snapped his neck before he had time to shoot. Transport for the moon base arrived before the soldiers could take reprisals."

"So you are saying the son of a bitch knew the dead guy?" Duo was standing up again. "That's why he," he shook his head, "why he fucking raped Q?"

"Quatre thinks so." Heero didn't stand up and just looked up at Duo from his seat. "He's also relieved that they didn't catch you. He would have taken his retribution on you."

"You are not going back to the satellite," Trowa said firmly and Wufei nodded in agreement.

Duo glared at them, whispered a curse and left. The other three let him go, knowing he needed some time alone.

* * *

Quatre opened his eyes at the sound of the door. He hadn't been sleeping, but keeping his eyes open when the place was so dark seemed like a futile endeavor. His arms had long ago fallen asleep but the rest of his body still ached after the beating. Maintaining his standing position on the wall was placing too much pressure on his injured leg and tiring the other.

It took a few seconds for Quatre to adjust his eyes to the light filling the room. There were two men walking towards him. Quatre tried to stand up as straight as possible and waited.

Matthews was following the man Quatre had recognized, the one the soldiers had addressed as lieutenant. They entered the cell and closed the doors behind them.

"Matthews tells me you haven't cooperated." The man gave Quatre an ugly sneer. "I was hoping you wouldn't."

"The man I killed was your friend." The words made Quatre's throat hurt. "I'm sorry."

"You are not sorry yet, but you'll be."

A gun was placed under Quatre's chin, forcing his head up. Rough hands lifted his arms until he was free from the wall, just to turn him around, and push him face first to it. The gun pressed to his chin was a clear threat, resistance wouldn't be tolerated. His hands were raised again over his head and the handcuffs' chain hooked to the wall. The gun was removed and Quatre was left standing, looking at the wall.

Quatre could feel his breathing going faster and faster. He tried to make his breaths shallow. He didn't want them to know he was scared. His heart was beating hard, and Quatre thought it sounded as loud as a drum in the quiet cell.

The silence worried him. Quatre expected to hear demands for information or insults but not this silence that seemed to make more difficult to hide how nervous he was. Someone grabbed his shirt and pulled it up, exposing his back. Quatre held his breath.

It wasn't a fist that hit him, but something sharp that left a stinging sensation on his back. With the second hit Quatre's mind supplied the answer: they were using a belt. They asked questions then but Quatre focused his mind on the pain, refusing to hear them, to acknowledge that there was a way to make it stop. If he screamed, he ignored that too.

Quatre didn't realize that he had closed his eyes tightly until he heard the lieutenant, speaking close to him. "Matthews here is a good soldier, and he seems to fancy you." Quatre opened his eyes, and stared at the wall. "Normally I don't allow that kind of behavior but I guess that for you, I can make an exception."

Quatre froze. Fear like he had never felt before traveled up and down his back, settling finally on his chest and fogging every thought. It wasn't until his pants and underwear were pulled down roughly that Quatre regained some sort of control. Ignoring the pain in his body, Quatre started to pull at his bonds, trying to break free from the wall and his helpless position.

When he felt hands sizing his hips, Quatre knew there was nothing to do. He fought anyway, pulling his hands harder, not caring that the friction was making the steel of the cuffs tear his skin.

The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before. He bit the inside of his lips, trying to hold back a scream. He kept pulling at the handcuffs, focusing on the pain in his hands so he wouldn't have to think about what was happening to him.

There was a small cracking sound before Quatre could feel himself falling face first on the floor, and a body falling over him. Matthews was still inside him. Quatre tried to push himself up and get away but there were hands still holding his hips. Another pair of hands grabbed his shoulders. Quatre looked up and saw the lieutenant looking down at him with a satisfied expression on his face. It was then that Quatre saw a broken metal hook near his grasp. The body on top of him was pinning him to the floor, but Quatre could move his upper body enough to lash at the lieutenant.

The lieutenant put a hand in front of him to deflect the blow. Quatre drove the hook into the man's hand and then pulled it free, tearing it open. The man let out a scream. He moved away from Quatre, holding his bloodied hand. With a curse he stood up, and delivered a kick to Quatre's head.

"Enough, Matthews! Let's go."

"But, Sir--"

"Now!"

Matthews pulled out, and stood up.

Quatre hissed and stayed on the floor, holding back the whimpers that threatened to come out.

The lieutenant was pointing a gun at him while Mathews zipped up his pants and put on his belt. They left, closing the door behind them.

"The door is electrified," said the lieutenant. "Don't try anything clever."

The lights went out and Quatre was left in darkness. He waited a few moments, not daring to move, until he was sure the lieutenant and Matthews were gone. Slowly, he straightened his shirt and pulled up his underwear and pants, hissing softly with every movement. He placed the hook in his pocket. It was the only weapon he had he might need to use it again. Then he lay down on the floor, and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Duo had thought about leaving. He had considered taking Deathscythe and heading for that satellite, where he could make someone pay for what had happened, instead of staying and feeling helpless. He had walked by Quatre's room and had known, without going inside, that he couldn't leave. Quatre needed him here, not away trying to get revenge.

However, he couldn't get himself to walk in the room. Quatre had been moved from the medical bay back to his room, but Duo hadn't visited him again. He felt ashamed, and even though he knew Quatre didn't blame him, Duo couldn't get himself to face him.

Instead, he had locked himself in his own room, running away from the others and just trying to get some time alone to think.

"Duo, open up."

Duo buried his head on his pillow before he raised it again and screamed at Heero to go away. The soft hiss of the door opening told him that his words had been ignored.

"Get out, Yuy. I'm busy sulking and I don't need an audience."

Heero ignored him, and walked to the bed, standing beside where Duo was sitting. "You are acting stupidly."

Duo glared. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Heero right now. "Just get the fuck out."

Heero didn't even blink. "Quatre has been asking for you."

Duo lowered his eyes for a second before he raised them again. However, he didn't look at Heero's eyes, deciding to focus on his mouth. "I can't see him right now."

"He's not dead." For anyone else, Heero's voice would have seemed the same. Duo, however, could tell that the tone had changed slightly. Heero was frustrated.

"I know that," Duo said between clenched teeth. "But they ra—"

"He isn't broken either," Heero interrupted him. "Stop acting like he is."

Shaking his head, Duo lowered his eyes again. "It's my fault. How can I face him when what happened is my fault?"

In a split second, Heero placed a hand on Duo's chest and pushed him down, pinning him to the bed. Their faces were centimeters away. Heero spoke slowly, and his voice sounded like a growl. "The way you are acting is hurting him more than what happened." He paused for a moment but didn't relax his hold on Duo. "/You/ are the one breaking him."

Heero moved back and stood again, leaning on the wall. Duo remained where Heero had left him, looking up at the ceiling, and replaying Heero's words on his mind over and over again.

"You love him, right?"

Duo blinked and found himself nodding before he could even understand what he was answering.

Since their first meeting he and Quatre had instantly connected. Duo found himself smiling more when Quatre was around, feeling at ease, and forgetting for a moment that they were fighting a war.

It never lasted. Life always came crashing down on them, but they had at least those short moments to escape; a jock, a laugh and a smile that kept them sane and gave them the strength to fight another battle each day.

He sat up, understanding finally why he had been running from Quatre. He was afraid that those moments where now lost forever. "He hasn't smiled."

"He has," replied Heero. "You've been too busy sulking to see it."

Thinking beyond his guilt, Duo understood for the first time how his decision to stay away must have been making Quatre feel. "I left him alone," he whispered.

"You still have time. Go to him."

Duo nodded slowly, then stood up, gave Heero a grateful smile and headed to Quatre's room.

* * *

Trowa hadn't said where he had gotten the flute and the violin. He had just walked into the room carrying them and asked Quatre to play. Quatre had never felt so awkward while holding an instrument. The bow felt heavy in his hands and his fingers seemed to slow, too clumsy. Quatre kept playing anyway, noticing that Trowa changed his rhythm to match his when Quatre's fingers couldn't move fast enough.

The music felt good, even if making it was a challenge. Quatre knew his body would recover in time, and he would be able to play like he used to, but he wasn't willing to wait. He was determined to reclaim at least the music in his life, even if sorting out the rest would take more time.

The door opened slowly. Duo was there, standing just at the door, watching. Quatre smiled and kept playing, his eyes fixed on Duo. When the song ended, Trowa brought down his flute, said he would stop by later, and left. Duo entered the room and closed the door. Quatre placed the violin on the floor and waited for Duo to say something or at least take a seat.

Minutes passed before Duo took a hesitant step and then another, until he was sitting on the very edge of Quatre's bed, looking at the crumpled sheets. "I'm sorry."

It was time to have the conversation. Quatre had been able to talk to all the other pilots about what had happened, at least to a certain extent. Duo, however, was different. The fact that Duo knew what happened seemed infinitely worse than that the other pilots knew. Quatre was ashamed, hurt and afraid, but he knew that he couldn't run forever. He and Duo needed to talk, no matter how painful it could be.

"It wasn't your fault." It seemed cliché to say those words. Duo had probably heard them enough, but Quatre needed to say them too. It was important to release Duo from any guilt.

Duo didn't accept or deny the statement and just said, "I've been avoiding you."

Quatre knew that already. "I let you." They had both been avoiding each other. "I was afraid you would turn me away."

Duo's eyes widened. "Q, I would never, never, turn you away."

Shaking his head slowly, Quatre said, "Heero tells me I'm not broken. I don't think I am but I'm not well either." There were tears in his eyes but Quatre refused to let them fall. "I'm not sure I'll ever be again. I want to think that I will, but I don't know."

Duo leaned into Quatre. It was a slow movement but Quatre couldn't help but flinch. It was a reflex, just like when his hand moved automatically for a gun every time he heard a weird noise.

Quatre expected to see hurt in Duo's eyes, but instead there was an understanding smile. Duo moved back. "I'll let you come to me when you are ready. I'll wait. Just remember I'm here."

A single tear fell, traveling slowly down Quatre's cheek. Quatre ignored it and leaned towards Duo until their faces were centimeters away. He didn't know if he could do what he wanted to, he didn't know if he would flinch back at the last moment, but he would try.

His lips met Duo's. Quatre kept his eyes open, looking at the face in front of him, a face filled with surprise and… love.

Pulling back slowly, Quatre smiled but soon he was frowning again. He wanted to avoid Duo's eyes but after what he just did, he couldn't look away. Duo deserved better. "That was wrong."

Duo's smile quivered a little. "It didn't feel wrong to me."

"I think I just promised you something I'm not sure I can give." The words left an empty feeling in Quatre's chest. They hurt but he cared for Duo too much to fool him. Quatre wanted to be honest with him, even if it would drive him away.

"It was just a kiss." Duo's smile was sincere again. "I'll take what you can give, nothing more."

Hope found its way to Quatre's heart. He swallowed before he gave Duo one last warning, one last chance to pull away. "Maybe a kiss is all I can give."

Duo leaned towards Quatre again, but this time he stopped midway, looking at Quatre and waiting for a sign that it was okay to go on. Quatre nodded and Duo moved closer, until their foreheads were almost touching. Quatre didn't flinch. "Then maybe we can kiss forever," Duo said.

Quatre closed the remaining distance, bringing their lips together again. This time, he parted them, licked Duo's lips with the tip of his tongue, and pulled away, but remained closed to Duo, close enough to feel Duo's breath on his skin. Quatre smiled, and this time his smile was filled with hope.

"Be patient," he told Duo, "and forever might still come someday."

* * *

-The End -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was difficult to write. I hope that the ones who read it enjoyed it. I need to write something happy now.


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